


A Matter of Understanding

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Somtimes the thing you need the most is right in front of you, but you don't notice until it's too late. Or is it?





	A Matter of Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

I was very nervous about creating the OMC but it was necessary for the part of this story, and he plays a very small role.

**Beta:** Many thanks to [](http://misssolitude.livejournal.com/profile)[**misssolitude**](http://misssolitude.livejournal.com/) and [](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/)**nefyr**.  


* * *

“Wanker.“ _slam_ “Prat.” _slam_ “Lousy, no good son of a-.” _crack_.

Harry stopped his abuse of the cupboards to listen. Damn, he knew that sound. It was the sound of Ron apparating into the living room.

Bloody Fucking Hell. What was he doing back here anyways? Didn’t he have somewhere better to be?

_slam_. Harry continued muttering as he opened and slammed the cupboard doors repeatedly.

“Where’s the fucking tea pot?!” Harry cursed angrily.

“It’s right in front of you, on the stove. Where you left it this morning,” Ron said calmly.

He was leaning casually against the door frame. Too casually for Harry’s liking. The top button of his dress robes was opened, revealing a pale expanse of skin. A path Harry imagined would lead to a trail of dark freckles; like uncharted territory just waiting to be mapped with Harry’s tongue. Something to memorized and worshiped, claimed. Ron’s hair was slightly disheveled, an obvious side effect from his recent apparation. He was just standing there, leaning against the door frame, staring at Harry with those improbably big, blue eyes and Harry could feel himself losing the battle.

Bugger. He never could stay mad at Ron.

Straightening up, Ron made his way over to the sink and filed the tea pot with water, placing it on the stove.

“Earl Grey or Chamomile?” Ron asked.

The question was simple enough, but Harry knew better. His words were asking about tea, his eyes were asking so much more. _Why are you mad? Are we okay? Did I do something?_

“Chamomile,” Harry replied smoothly, though his insides were still churning. Forcing himself to smile, he saw Ron visibly relax. And just like that Harry knew that things were settled, or as settled as they were ever going to be.

In a few days Ron would start it up again. He would be out picking up someone random, hitting on someone else - male or female, Ron didn’t seem to care much. He would flirt shamelessly, a casual touch and whispered words dripping with so much more. He would touch them and tease them and all the while Harry would stand by, seething with jealousy and resentment. Harry’s eyes would narrow as someone else was allowed to touch Ron, to smooth his hair and caress his freckles. Harry would stay and watch until he felt physically ill; until he had to force himself to apparate home, alone, before he made a fool of himself.

Every time Ron brought back someone else to his bed, back their apartment, Harry felt a little piece of his heart harden and shatter.

The rational part of Harry’s brain knew it wasn’t Ron’s fault. Harry had never told Ron outright that was he in love with him, but he thought it was obvious. Which was why Harry never could shake the small feelings of betrayal he felt every time Ron slept with anyone.

*****

“Nghh,” Ron grunted as he stumbled into the kitchen.

Wordlessly, Harry handed him a cup of coffee- two sugars, extra cream. Ron looked at the cup lovingly before downing half the liquid in one giant gulp. Sighing audibly, he smiled up at Harry.

“Thanks, Harry. You’re the best, mate.”

Harry just shrugged off the compliment as he went back to cooking breakfast. Minutes later he sat down at the small table with two plates of eggs and bacon. Ron’s coffee had also been refilled at some point. Without being asked, Ron automatically handed Harry the sports section of the Daily Prophet, even though Harry knew he liked to read that more than the front page. They ate in companionable silence, only breaking the quiet occasionally to share the Quidditch scores or an odd bit of news.

The small smiles, an off handed catch of the eyes, bumping of knees under the table. Days like these were the hardest for Harry because he could almost convince himself that there could be something more between him and Ron. Of course, there was always something to break Harry out of his musings on mornings like this.

“Ah, good morning. Harry, is it?” said the half naked bloke walking out of Ron’s room.

Yes, sometimes Harry could _almost_ convince himself. Until reality would come crashing down on him again - brutally.

“Yeah, right. Morning…um, sorry didn’t catch your name.” Harry was trying his hardest to be civil. There was nothing he hated more than when one of Ron’s conquests stayed all night. Watching them get together was bad enough, but seeing proof of it the next morning made it all the harder for Harry to push it out of his head.

“It’s Derrick Warington. Don’t suppose there’s anymore coffee in there?” All the while directing his voice towards Harry, but his eyes never leaving Ron.

“Yeah, there’s more on the stove. Help yourself,” Harry replied bitterly.

“Well, actually, do you think you could get me a cup? I’m a bit knackered after last night and all. I’m sure you understand.” Derrick winked at Harry as he said the last part.

Spluttering indignantly, Harry turned and looked at Ron; expecting something, anything. Perhaps a, “Hey, don’t order Harry around, he’s my best mate,” or even a, “Get your own coffee” Instead, Ron just looked between the two and shrugged.

“Oh sure, I’ll get you some coffee. Would you like me to cook you some breakfast while I’m at it? In fact, I’m not done with the prophet but I’m sure you’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”

Without waiting for a reply, Harry marched out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“Fucking wanker.”

Seconds later, Ron joined him.

“That was a bit harsh, Harry, don’t you think?”

That was the last straw. Harry was damned if he was going to sit around and let Ron put a one night stand before his best mate.

“That’s right Ron, because I have nothing to be upset about, do I? It’s not like I have to deal with your one-night stands all the time or anything. Not like I have to constantly watch you flirting and throwing yourself at people, and then bringing them back here so I have to see it first hand.”

“Fuck you, Harry. It’s not like you never sleep with people. So don’t pretend you don’t.”

“Merlin, Ron, you’re clueless, aren’t you? It’s not about that. It’s about you and me! I can’t stand to sit around and watch you constantly changing partners. Half the time you’re more concerned about their well being then mine. You let them saunter into our apartment and do what they want, but I have to maintain all civilities. Well, fuck that!”

Harry was breathing hard, his chest heaving from all the yelling. Ron looked slightly embarrassed and was about to speak when Harry put his hand up, effectively silencing him.

“I’m not your mother, Ron. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I’ll be damned if I have to sit around here any longer and watch you do it. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you bring home any random person you meet, when all the time there’s been someone here who would’ve given you everything, if only you’d asked?”

“Harry?” Ron said in a apprehensive voice.

“I love you, you prat. I fucking love you and it’s killing me to watch you. I can’t do this anymore,” Harry said wearily as he apparated away.

*****

A week later, Ron could still hear the crack of Harry apparating away from him ringing in his ears. A whole week of waking up and having no one to make him coffee, no one to eat breakfast with. There was no one to share the Prophet with in the morning and laugh over the insane politics of the minister or the latest Quidditch scores. There was no one to remind him to buy milk at the store, and no one to help finish off the last of the butter beer in the fridge. Most of all though, there was a giant Harry-shaped hole throughout all of Ron’s day Ron knew Harry was important to him, but he had never before realized how all encompassing Harry’s presence had been, how much laughter and love he took from Harry without a thought, without giving any of it back.

Ron had never been so confused in his entire life. There weren’t many things that he had always been sure of, but he had thought Harry was one of them. They were best mates, forever. At least that’s what Ron had always assumed. Although, if he were completely honest with himself, he had always known there had been something more there, something extra that all best mates didn’t have. It was just easier to ignore it. Safer to pretend certain things didn’t exist. Though after a week without Harry, that was becoming impossible. It was as if half of Ron were missing and he couldn’t stand it.

The more he thought about it the more little pieces began to fall into place. All those times Ron would come home to find Harry abusing a random piece of furniture had been because Harry was jealous. Jealous because of Ron. The moping about all day after Ron would bring someone home, it had never been because Ron was having more sex than Harry, it had been because Ron was having sex _without_ Harry

It all made so much more sense. Of course, that conclusion only made Ron feel worse. How could he have not noticed? Had he really been so absorbed in himself that he hadn’t realized Harry cared about him as more than a friend? Merlin, what a prat he’d been. If he had been Harry, he probably would have decked himself by now.

There was nothing else for it. He had to talk to Harry, and soon. Before things got even worse. Ron couldn’t bare to think of an outcome where Harry didn’t come back home.

*****

Mustering up all his resolve, Ron walked up the steps and knocked on the door. He was just about to knock again when the door swung open.

“I was wondering when you’d show up here, Ronald,” said Hermione

She had one hand on her hip and the other was holding the door open. She had that look on her face that said, _“You’ve really screwed up and I’m not sure you can fix this.”_ She moved over slightly and motioned for Ron to come inside. Once inside, Ron regained some of his nervousness.

“Oh, for heavens sake. I know you know Harry’s here or you wouldn’t have come over. So, do you want to talk to him or not?” Hermione sounded exasperated.

“Right, well, yeah. I think so. I mean, yeah. I do.”

“Fine, good. He’s in the kitchen. And I mean it Ron, don’t you dare screw this up!” Suddenly she was inches from his face and Ron was reminded strongly of his mother and how, despite her short stature, she could still tower over anyone when she was angry. “You’ve been a right prat and Harry has dealt with enough. I’m not saying this is entirely your fault either, so wipe that look off your face, I know what you’re thinking. All I’m saying is think really hard before you go into that kitchen, because he genuinely cares about you. If this is some misplaced confusion or you just don’t want him to be mad at you, then you better not lead him on. You’ll just have to deal with that. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare play with his emotions, Ron Weasley, or you’ll be sorry.“

“I’m not playing, Hermione, honest. I care about him. I care about him a lot. It just took me awhile to realize it.”

“That’s good, Ron, I’m glad.“ Hermione’s features softened and she walked over and gave Ron a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Turning around slowly, Ron made his way down the hall, towards the kitchen. Opening the door, Ron was met with the most adorable sight he’d ever seen Harry was standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled wonderful. Harry was wearing his favorite green sweater and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was just as messy and untamed as ever, but it was also just as thick and silky looking. Just as he normally was when cooking, Harry was totally absorbed and he had yet to notice Ron’s presence. He spent several minutes just watching Harry and wondering how it was he could have not known how much he loved the man in front of him. Deciding it was now or never, Ron spoke up.

“It smell delicious. What is it?”

Harry visibly jumped and spun around. His eyes went wide as saucers as he looked at Ron. Harry looked torn between several different emotions but Ron thought that sadness might be winning out.

“It’s just beef stew,” Harry said as he turned back around. Picking up the knife, he began to brusquely chop up more carrots.

“Harry, we need to talk. Will you please look at me?”

“Talk about what? I’m not sure there’s anything to be said.” Despite his words, Harry turned around and Ron could see the hope he was trying to hide written plainly across his face.

“About everything. I know I was a fool and I was a prat not to notice what was right in front of me. I’m so sorry, Harry. You have no idea how sorry. This last week without you has been miserable. I’d gotten so used to you being around that I’d forgotten what it was like to be without you Except, now that I remember what that’s like, I don’t want to ever feel it again. I miss you.”

Harry was looking at him warily.

"So you went a week living alone, cooking your own meals, doing your own laundry and you got lonely, is that it? Sounds more like you missed being taken care of," Harry replied scathingly and it cut Ron like a knife.

"Fuck, Harry. It's not like that!"

"It's not, is it? So tell me, what is it like? Because it sounds to me like you just want the best of both worlds. Are you trying to tell me that in one week you suddenly realized you were in love with me? Can you honestly tell me you're just not afraid of being alone?"

Ron turned his gaze to the floor, unable to look at Harry any longer. Harry's words were almost too close to the truth. Ron was afraid of being alone, but Harry wasn't just a replacement or a convenience - was he? Ron could feel the confusion threatening to overtake him again. How the fuck was he supposed to know how he felt? One minute it all seemed so easy and the next he didn't know what he wanted.

"See, Ron? You don't know what you want do you. You're an adult, you're free to do what you want. I'm not going to sit around and let you figure out what you want at my expense, though."

"Harry, mate, I’m sorry. It's just-"

"Ron, stop. I think maybe you should go."

“Go?”

“Yes, Ron. Figure out what exactly it is that you want.”

Ron stared at Harry. His confusion turned to anger. Harry wasn't even going to listen to him, was he? Well then, screw him. Ron allowed himself to get angry at Harry, to blame him. Anger was something Ron knew, it was much easier to deal with than the hurt and confusion.

“Then fuck you, Harry.”

_crack_

Ron was gone.

*****

"Ron, how much longer are you two going to go on like this?" Hermione asked as she took a drink of her butterbeer. The two had agreed to meet up for lunch at the Three Broomsticks

"Go on like what? Harry and I are fine. We're not fighting anymore, are we?"

"You call what Harry and you have going on, fine? You smile at each other at the ministry and make small talk in the elevator.”

"See, Hermione, fine."

"On the outside maybe, but not where it matters. Harry's been at my apartment for three weeks now, Ron, and you've been living alone. And don't tell me you're fine living alone because I know you're not. I was over the other day, remember? Piles of laundry and dirty dishes, an empty fridge, and oh yes, the best part, you were so pissed on firewhisky. You probably would have passed out in the kitchen if I hadn't put you in bed. You two are miserable without each other. Admit it!"

"Fine, I'm fucking miserable! It's not just having someone be there around the house, it's having Harry. I miss the way he knew exactly how to make my coffee and the way he would laugh when I burned the eggs or messed up the laundry. I miss him walking around in the morning and bumping into things when he can’t find his glasses. I miss seeing him smile when I come home from work, and I miss listening to the Quidditch matches on the radio on the weekends. I even miss his annoying voice singing in the shower, and having him drink all the juice and leave the empty container in the fridge. I fucking miss everything about him."

Ron buried his face in his hands, mortified at his emotional outburst

"Then you need to win him back," Hermione said this as if it were the most blatantly obvious thing in the world.

"Right. Seems you've forgotten the last time I tried to talk to him. He wasn't exactly up for it. In fact, I distinctly remember him telling me to leave."

"Oh Ron, when will you learn? He was testing you, giving you a chance to back out. Put yourself in his position. Harry has been in love with you for some time now and all of the sudden, after years of flings, you claim you love him too. He was terrified you were just doing it to appease him. Or to make things easier at home"

"Well then why the hell didn't he just say that?!"

"Men," Hermione shook her head. "How long have you known Harry? Do you really think he's just going to stand there and tell you all his fears? That's not him. He wanted to see if you'd stay, if you would deny the claims he was making, and you didn't. You left him, Ron. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. He's upset, but he loves you. You just need to show him how you feel."

"Show him how I feel? How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Just be sincere, Ron. Trust yourself and trust Harry.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Hermione.”

“Ron, just ask yourself this: is Harry worth it? What are you willing to do for Harry?”

Looking at her watch, Hermione jumped up frantically.

“I’ve got to go. I was supposed to be back at the ministry two minutes ago. Just think about what I said, Ron!” The last part was yelled seconds before she apparated away.

Ron sat at the table, poking at the remains of his lunch. So what was he willing to do? Was Harry worth it? He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do; all Ron knew was that Harry was worth everything.

*****

“No way, Hermione. There is no way I’m going to the Burrow for dinner. Ron will be there.”

“Harry James Potter!” Hermione scolded. “You’ve been holed up in my apartment for weeks now. Mrs. Weasley is worried about you. You haven’t been to one of her weekly dinners since you and Ron fell out, so she owled me earlier and asked me to bring you. I agreed.”

“Well, what if I said I wasn’t going and there was not a thing you could do about it?”

“I’d tell you that if you won’t go to the burrow tonight then you can go back to your apartment with Ron and sleep there tonight.”

Harry gave Hermione a dirty look before nodding grimly and apparating to the front steps of the burrow. Hermione followed seconds later.

“Honestly, you’ve fought Voldemort but you can’t face the Weasleys? Come on,” Hermione said as she lightly tugged on Harry’s arm

Bracing himself Harry opened the Weasleys' door and made his way into the kitchen. Immediately, Harry was bombarded with sounds. The twins had apparently come by after work, and even Ginny had managed to find time to take a break from her apprenticeship at St. Mungos. Arthur was sitting at the head of the table and stood up to clasp Harry gently on the shoulder before sitting back down. Soon, Mrs. Weasley appeared, having just stepped out of the food pantry, and almost dropping her bowl in excitement when she spotted Harry.

“Oh, Harry dear! So good to see you. We’ve missed you around here.” Harry was soon enveloped in a bear sized hug, immediately reminded of the love and warmth he always felt at the burrow. “Sit down dear, sit down!”

Looking around, Harry noticed that Ron wasn’t there and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if he could handle Ron tonight. Deciding to sit down before being told again, Harry took a seat opposite Hermione at the end of the table.

A clamour of a different sort was heard as chairs were moved and bowls and plates were filled with food. Silverware clinked against glass dishes as bowls of steaming vegetables and roast beef were passed up and down the table.

Harry was just helping himself to some mashed turnips when he heard the crack of someone apparating into the other room.

“Damn, sorry I’m late mum. Stack of bloody reports a foot high and-” Ron stopped short when he noticed Harry sitting at the table.

“Don’t you use that language in this house, Ronald. Now sit down next to Harry and tuck in,” Mrs. Weasley said, completely unaware of the thick tension that had suddenly enveloped the room.

Swallowing his nervousness, Ron walked over and sat next to Harry, quickly filling up his plate as a distraction.

Dinner was an interesting affair. Harry and Ron, though sitting mere inches from each other, hardly said a word. There was one tense moment when they had both reached for the same roll, and Ron’s fingers had rested over Harry’s a second longer than was necessary and Harry was sure that if Ron hadn’t pulled away at the exact moment he had, then he might’ve done something monumentally stupid.

By the end of dinner the dynamic had changed. No longer was the uneasiness between them tangible enough to touch, but it had been replaced with something just as dangerous.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Mrs. Weasley said cheerily.

There was a strong chorus of “I’m too full” heard around the table, but everyone seemed to be helping themselves to the treacle pudding anyways

Ron leaned over slightly to whisper in Harry’s ear, “Come outside with me? Please.”

Harry turned his head, bringing his mouth mere centimeters from Ron’s He was so close. He could smell Ron’s shampoo, feel their thighs touching under the table; a warm, heavy weight that was reassuring and terrifying at the same time Ron dragged one finger up the side of Harry’s thigh and he felt himself tremble. He was going to that space - the one where rational thought was gone and all that mattered was being near Ron.

“Please, Harry-,” and Harry knew he was gone. He nodded slowly and stood up from the table.

Realizing that Harry suddenly seemed incapable of speech, Ron spoke up.

“Dinner was great mum. Harry and I are just going to kip out for a minute, get some fresh air.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ron stood and poked Harry in the back, urging him outside It seemed to take an eternity before they had crossed the threshold of the tiny kitchen and opened the door, making their way outside into the cool night air.

Once outside though, Ron seemed to lose some of his nerve. Unable to take the silence, Ron finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“For what, exactly?”

Taking a deep breath, Ron attempted to compose himself for the declaration he was about to make. Fighting against his desire to turn and run in the face of such a blunt and emotional display, Ron had to remind himself that it was only Harry. _His_ Harry, and that he would not laugh at Ron.

Drawing on every bit of courage he thought he possessed, Ron began to speak.

“For taking you for granted. For not seeing what was in front of me. For not staying that night a few weeks ago and proving that I really loved you. For putting other people before you, before _us_. For letting you get away.”

Harry looked at Ron, almost unable to believe what he was hearing.

“You love me?”

“Yes, Harry. Very much so.”

“And what did you mean, us? You want there to be an us?”

Ron marveled at how unsure of things Harry could be sometimes.

“Merlin, you’ve no idea how much. Of course I want there to be an us!”

“Ron, are you sure about this? About us? I mean I’m not asking you for a lifelong declaration or guarantee but I won’t be second best. If you’re only saying this because you don’t like to be alone, because you don’t want to do your own laundry or cooking, then forget it. This isn’t a friends-with-benefits thing. If we’re going to do this, then it has to be all the way.”

“I know Harry, really, I do. I’ve been thinking a lot lately. There’s always been something between us, I know you know that. I’m not proud to admit it, but I was scared. It was easier to pretend it was nothing, than to risk our friendship. To risk losing something. But all along I’ve been losing you anyways. I didn’t realize it till you left that day, but I was. I was hurting you all along, and I was hurting me. None of those people ever made me happy, Harry. Didn’t you wonder why I never stayed with any of them? They could never give me what I wanted, what I needed Only you can. It just took me a long time and a lot of mistakes to realize it I’m just hoping you’ll tell me it isn’t too late. That I’m not too late.”

By the time he was done talking, Ron had walked over and encircled Harry in a hug. The last of his words were spoken into the top of Harry’s head, Harry’s hair tickling his nose. For a long moment neither spoke and Ron was almost beginning to worry that maybe he had been too late. That he had screwed things up too bad. As Harry began to pull back from the embrace, Ron felt like maybe his heart was breaking. Looking down into Harry’s eyes though, Ron felt his breath catch in his throat. There was so much love there and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. If he could be good enough, if he deserved it.

“You’re not too late, Ron.”

And then they were kissing. It wasn’t rough or desperate or needy. It was gentle and soft, tentative and reassuring in a way neither boy had ever felt. Ron had never experienced so much in just a kiss - he wanted to cry from the sheer intensity of it. Harry was right there, gripping his forearms and wrapping his leg around Ron’s. There was a hand running through Ron’s hair as a tongue slowly explored his mouth. The kiss was sweet and delicate.

They continued kissing for several moments, neither one wanting to break whatever they were experiencing, both too afraid that words would spoil what their hearts already knew.

Pulling back slightly, Harry leaned up and whispered in Ron’s ear, “Come on, Ron. It’s time to go home.”

Yes, Ron thought, it was definitely time they were heading _home_.


End file.
